


badlands

by BackstrokeForGays



Category: Original Work
Genre: idk ao3 doesnt allow drafts for long periods of time, please dont read this yet, so like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 17:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16937817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackstrokeForGays/pseuds/BackstrokeForGays
Summary: work in progress but google docs isn't secure anymore ig





	1. carmilla

**Carmilla**

She felt as if she would never stop falling.

_ Fly,  _ a voice whispered, but Carmilla did not know how to fly, so all she could do was fall. Once, Lyanna Stark had made a girl out of clay, dressed in her soldier’s rags, and thrown it off the roof. Carmilla watched as it shattered to pieces.

“I never fall,” She said, falling.

She could not see the ground anymore, because she was so far up, but she knew the ground beneath her was wreathed in a heavy fog. Carmilla could feel how fast she was falling, but she forced herself to look away from the ground. She would wake up, she knew she would.  _ I always wake up before I hit the ground. _

_ And if you don't?  _ Asked a voice.

The ground was coming up beneath her now, hard and fast, mist swirling around her. There was no sun in her eyes, nor stars above her; only the ground, the voice, and the mist.  Carmilla wanted to cry.

_ No, not cry. Fight back. _

“I can’t fight back,” She pleaded, trying to push the ground away. “I’m falling.”

_ How do you know? You’ve never tried, have you? _

Her lungs were on fire now, and the rest of her body felt as if it were burning up too. _ Fight back,  _ begged the voice.

_ I’m trying,  _ she said.  _ I’m trying, I am.  _

_ You’re on fire, Carmilla,  _ the voice said.  _ You are slowly killing yourself, slowly burning, but you don’t realize it yourself.  _

“I don’t understand,” She tried to scream, but the wind took her voice away. “Help me.”

_ I’m trying.  _ Carmilla looked up and found a sparrow, falling with her.  _ Say, are you hungry? _

The darkness spun around her and it felt terrifying. Carmilla was so scared that she thought even her shadow had abandoned her.

“Are you really a sparrow?” She asked the bird.

“Are you really falling?” The sparrow asked her.

_ It’s a dream,  _ she thought, and her heart was filled with a renewed sense of panic.

_ Is it though?  _ The sparrow said back.

“I’ll wake up once I hit the ground,” She shouted at the sparrow.

_ You’ll die when you hit the ground,  _ the sparrow shouted back at her.

She could see the frosted peaks of the mountains of the morn now, the temperature dropping until she felt as if she were on fire over again, grasping desperately at the dark rivers of silver that made their way through the forest. Carmilla closed her eyes and began to cry.

_ Don’t cry,  _ the sparrow flapped around her head.  _ The answer is to fly, to  _ fly.

“You have wings,” She screamed at the bird, the wind whisking her voice away until she felt there was nothing there at all.

_ You do too. _

Carmilla reached back and tried to feel the feathers.

_ A different kind of wings, Your Highness. _

“I’m not a ‘Highness’,” She tried to tell the sparrow.  _ I’m only a bastard, Elise Storm that was born sick. I’m not even a Lady, just a soldier.  _

She stared at her arms; since when had she turned so thin and frail? Carmilla tried to remember, but a face swam out of the murky clouds, made of gold, and said, “You are burning, and you don’t even realize it. You can’t realize it.”

Carmilla screamed.

The sparrow opened its wings and cawed, shrieking at her.  _ Forget that girl,  _ screamed the sparrow, landing on her shoulder and pecking at her face.

“What are you doing to me?” She demanded, feeling the air get colder and colder as she did.

_ Teaching you to fly. _

“I can’t fly!”

_ You’re flying right now. _

“I’m falling!”

_ Every flight begins with a fall,  _ the sparrow told her.  _ Look down. _

_ I’m scared,  _ she thought, kicking at the air.

_ LOOK DOWN! _

She did, and her insides turned to water. The ground was coming up at her, and for a moment all she could see was a white expanse of snow until her vision turned clear and she could see the entire kingdom before her eyes. All the fear faded away at that moment.

She could see her childhood home, Starfall, with its towers made of weathered brick, covered in silver snow. She saw the castle’s walls as simple lines, scratched into the dirt and lined with rocks. She saw Violet Stark through the glass of the sun-room, typing away on her typewriter. She saw Lolita, who she used to play with, stronger and taller. She saw her sister, Cattleya, sitting on the throne. At the center of the godswood, she could see the big red tree in the center.

Carmilla looked to her side and saw a ship, being blown by the wind to cut across the water. She saw Sheira Seaster and her mother, Serenei, on the deck of a boat. There was a storm ahead of them, but they could not see it.  _ A storm,  _ she tried to shout.  _ A storm! _

She looked to her other side and saw the rivers, winding through the thin hills. She saw Lyanna, pleading with the King, her face etched with grief. She saw her brother, Sieglinde, crying himself to sleep at night, all alone, and she saw herself, watching in silence and holding hard words to her heart. Shadows surrounded her brother, each darker than the other. The first was shaped like a dog. Another was dressed like the sun; beautiful. Above them both stood a giant, made entirely of the storm, and when he pulled off his mask, only the black met her eyes. She lifted her eyes clear across the Nyx and saw the thousand rivers of Stygai, and beyond that, Asshai and all the Shadowlands beyond, where dragons stirred beneath the sunrise.

Finally, she looked North, where the lonely light shone, standing alone in the middle of the stormy seas. Her skin grew cold and hard, the pale warmth of the sky around her fleeing from her body. And then she looked past the wall, through the seas glazed over in thick ice, dusted with a thin layer of snow; frozen plains where nothing grew. North and north she looked, until she reached the curtain of light that marked the world’s end, and beyond that curtain into the heart of the storm. Carmilla cried out, frightened.

_ Now you know _ , the sparrow said,  _ why you must live _ .

“Why?” She asked, not understanding.

_ Because the storm is coming, and you know what’s coming with it. _

Carmilla looked to the side, at the sparrow perched on her shoulder. Beneath her, the ground began rising faster and faster now, tall spires of ice with sharpened points rising up to meet her. She could see the bones of a thousand other dreams impaled on them, and felt desperately afraid.

“How can a person be brave,” She heard her own voice, small and far away. “When they are afraid?”

“That is the only time they can be brave.” Her father’s voice answered.

_ Now,  _ urged the sparrow.  _ Now. Fly, or die. _

Death reached for her, screaming.

Carmilla spread her arms and flew.

Wings unseen drank the wind and pulled her up, and the needles of ice receded. The sky opened up and swallowed her, and Carmilla soared. This was better than climbing. This was better than  _ anything _ . The world grew small beneath her.

“I’m flying!” She said, delighted.

_ I know _ . The sparrow flew down and pecked at the spot between her collarbones, its wings flapping and beating at her eyes. She felt a sudden, blinding pain in the middle of her eyebrows.

“What are you doing?” Carmilla said, trying to push the bird away.

The sparrow let out a shriek, and it’s beak pecked at her, gray mists around her shuddering and swirling like a veil until it ripped away suddenly, and she saw that the sparrow was really a woman. A serving girl with short brown hair. 

The serving girl screamed, and dropped the bowl she was carrying, crying “she’s awake, she’s awake!” loudly as she ran away from her.

She reached forward to brush a heavy cotton coverlet way, exposing the freezing air to her bare skin.  _ Lyanna _ , she thought with a sudden panic and shifted in her bed until she lost her balance, toppling over the edge with a small grunt.

Looking up from her spot on the ground, she spotted a sparrow on the windowsill.

“Who are you?” Her voice was barely a croak.  _ That was stupid; it’s just a sparrow _ .

The sparrow met her eye, let out a chirp, and flew away.


	2. carmilla

**Carmilla**

The morning mist should have stayed on the ground like it usually did, but this morning, it came in through her windows and filtered out the sun. Carmilla wrote something and then stopped because she didn’t know what to say anymore.

Lyanna had died months ago, so she had no reason to be writing her anymore, no more reason than she had to be rejoining the army anytime soon.  _ And what now? _ She had nothing left now, not anymore.

She tossed the paper away and let the wind carry it into the waking city outside. Although it had been at least a week since she’d woken, no one had let her go outside. No one had told her about Lyanna’s manner of death, either, but this morning, some girl with mousy hair came in and told her in a quiet voice, about how Lyanna Stark died some months ago like she didn’t know that already.  _ I mean, I didn’t really, but… _

The nurse had no emotion in her voice when she said that, and for that, Carmilla thanked her. The nurse said it again when Carmilla kept her face a mask of stone as if she hadn’t heard at all. It was only once the nurse left the room and her footsteps faded away did Carmilla start crying, but that was only for a while until she fell asleep an hour later.

_ (WIP) _


	3. sarisa

**Sarisa**

“Queen’s Landing was the largest and wealthiest city in Northern Valyria, built into a treacherous harbor that always had ice floating in it, thick enough to break a ship’s hull in the wintertime. Only a true Northman could navigate the waters without crashing.”

Sarisa rolled her eyes and watched as Haise read from the book, turning the page slowly. Veenah nodded, intent on his reading, and Mercedene lounged by her side, kicking her legs back and forth; the two made a nice couple if she was being honest. It made her jealous, almost.

“In the summertime, the city has chilly temperatures similar to the capital, King’s Peace, in fall. Seasonally, winter roses and ivy can be found crawling up the walls of buildings, even in the coldest days of winter.”

“That’s very interesting, Haise,” Sarisa said, twisting a winter rose from outside between her fingers. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“What was the question again?” Mercedene looked up from her watch.

“Black skulls,” Carmilla said from the doorway, all eyes in the room going towards her instantly. She had appeared out of nowhere, seemingly, like a ghost, with her milk-white face and gaunt cheekbones. Sarisa frowned; last night, she had insisted Carmilla eat before she went to sleep. “We’re talking about post-war cleanup.”

Truth be told, she had begged Carmilla not to hold a meeting today- well, not begged, but reasoned with her.  _ You’ve just been discharged,  _ she said to a defiant Carmilla.  _ It’s not good for you- and god knows you’re fragile enough already. _

That had been the final straw, so Carmilla had pushed past her and insisted that they gather the coven today; the sooner the better.  _ I shouldn’t have said that,  _ Sarisa thought,  _ but at the same time, it’s the truth.  _ Carmilla walked with an almost limp, and looked distantly across the room at nothing in particular.  _ She is sick,  _ Sarisa thought,  _ sick of this peace. _

Carmilla was a ticking time bomb to Sarisa, and Haise had agreed.  _ Anytime, she’ll snap, and join one of the rebel groups.  _ It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when, when she would get tired of the peace and go back to the battlefield.

“Ah.” Mercedene looked at Veenah uncertainly, her expression changing to embarrassment as she turned to Carmilla and nodded, unsure of what else to do. “Sorry.”

“Mercedene, Vaisravana, this is Carmilla.” Sarisa introduced, to break the awkward silence.  “Carmilla, you’ve met Haise already; he’s the… supervisor, I guess you could call it, of this project. The coven, I mean.”

“Ah. It has a name now, how interesting.” She grimaced.  “Let’s get started- Haise, I sent Shirazu with you to get the maps. Have you got them out yet?”

“Well, no, but--”

“Get them out,” Carmilla said, rubbing her wrists together.

When Haise did, projecting them onto the middle of the table, Carmilla leaned over and turned the screen over, showing clusters of different colored dots-- a small group of red dots grew around the base of the Trident River, running down from Queen’s Landing to King’s Peace; a larger group of black dots, forming around Queen’s Landing in an arrow, almost, leading away from the city; blue dots near the east coast; yellow in the south; green in the desert… The dots on the map slowly multiplied in number, leading away from their respective areas towards a single city--  _ Since when had there been so many anti-peace groups?  _

“King’s Peace,” Carmilla said out loud as if reading her mind. Sarisa looked up and made eye contact with the girl, only for her to look away as if it were nothing. “They’re heading towards King’s Peace. They have been since the war ended.”

And then, Carmilla turned the map around, pushing it down onto the table to make it 3D.  _ She’s a smart girl,  _ Sarisa thought in admiration as she watched Carmilla point out the dots, drawing little arrows towards King’s Peace.

“They’re attacking,” Haise said, leaning over the table next to her, pointing at the red dots as he watched their slow progress down the river, some traveling through the woods and stopping at small towns along the way.

“No. They would have been more discreet; don’t you see? They’re panicked. Rushing. Not caring to hide their tracks from us…” Carmilla paused, putting her finger on her lips. “Why do you think that is?”

“There’s a bigger threat than the capital to these rebels and outlaws,” Mercedene said.

“They are running,” Carmilla confirmed, turning the map back into a small projection with both her hands. “From what?”

There was a tense silence as Veenah and Mercedene eyed each other nervously. The tension between them made Sarisa uncomfortable, so she sought out Haise’s gaze and found that he was instead staring at Carmilla, who was looking down at the map, suddenly troubled. 

“Why King’s Peace?” Veenah stood up to face Carmilla, looking at her this time through the projection. “What's there for them?”

_ Those rebel groups,  _ Sarisa thought again, scowling as she thought about the war again.  _ I lost both arms to a bullet and they want to put themselves through that again.  _ Carmilla, if she felt any disgust for these rebel war groups, showed none of it on her perfect face.

“A passage to the sea, maybe?” She suggested, scratching the back of her neck. Sarisa wasn’t good at this stuff; her specialty was mapping whatever courses she was told to.  _ If only,  _ the blonde thought uncomfortably, rubbing at her wrists.  _ If only. _

“We can do nothing here; if we take out the Black Skulls, it’s only one part of the problem and will do nothing.” Haise looked at Carmilla.

“Maybe it is nothing.” Said Mercedene.

“It  _ has  _ to be something.”

“How do you know?”

“The attack patterns aren’t coordinated, they’re sloppy, and they aren’t moving all at once. Simple things, you see,” Carmilla said, and walked backward, holding a pen up to his eye and pointing it at the map from a distance, closing one eye as if she was aiming a gun. “But these things could make all the difference. You should know that.”

“Yeah- I do.” Mercedene burst out, looking at Veenah. “I do, it’s just- isn’t this too soon? After the war, I mean.”  _ You do everything too soon,  _ thought Sarisa as she watched Mercedene look over at Veenah. 

“Exactly. They didn’t have enough time to plan- you think those lunatics could make a large scale attack together, so soon?” Carmilla shook her head and took the pile of papers from some kid in the doorway, walking over with them back to the table. “They’re running from something, something that’s leading them to King’s Peace.”

“Why do  _ you  _ know this?” Veenah said, blinking her long eyelashes. “You’ve been out of the hospital for a night.”

“Why wouldn’t I know this?” Carmilla fixed Veenah with a cold look.

The two stared at each other before Haise pulled Carmilla back down.

“What can we do here?” Mercedene asked quietly, fiddling with her own pen. Her dark-brown eyes were fixated on the map, on King’s Peace specifically. “Why hasn’t the King done anything?”

Carmilla stayed silent for a while, scrunching up her nose for a millisecond, and then stood up again, clapping her hands together. “Meeting adjourned. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Should we pack our bags?” Sarisa asked timidly, freezing as Carmilla turned around to look at her.  _ That was stupid,  _ she told herself,  _ they’re just eyes…  _ But Carmilla unnerved her as a ghost would.  _ She can’t hurt me,  _ told Sarisa to herself.  _ She won’t hurt me _ .

“Not yet,” Carmilla assured with a smile, although her tone had an edge to it.  _ She doesn’t like talking about the war any more than I do,  _ Sarisa realized and watched as Carmilla left the room slowly.

_ (WIP) _


	4. carmilla

**Carmilla**

She thought about the war with a vintage filter over it, like the posters of the movies she had hung up in her old room. They were never too clear, not in her mind.  _ The sleep must have done something to me. _

Carmilla looked back at the empty room, thinking about the girls.  _ My new coven.  _ She’d better make friends with them soon, or it could mean her life.

“Hey. Carmilla.” Haise stepped in front of her as she turned to leave, and then stepped back when he realized how close he was to her. “Sorry- I’m leaving right now, actually, to go somewhere. Mercedene’s coming with me, do you want to come? We’re going to this market thing downtown.”

Carmilla stared at him for a moment, meeting his eyes before looking away again. Haise had a strange resemblance to the Major, the first man that had taken her in.  _ He died,  _ she remembered sadly,  _ because of me. _

“If it pleases you.” She echoed quietly, not daring to meet Haise’s face.  _ One day, I might open my eyes after blinking and see the Major’s.  _

“I had hoped it would please you.” His face fell in the brief seconds she looked at it;  _ maybe seeing the Major’s face after all this time would be a welcome change.  _

“Sure. I’ll come.” Carmilla repeated, and at the look on Haise’s face, wanted to smile alongside him.  _ (WIP) _

 

“A necklace?” The woman behind the booth questioned, and took the jewel from her hands before she had even gotten a look at it. “This won’t suit you, sweetling. A jewel like this brings back memories of summer, the ocean, and overripe peaches; you’re rather more like the darkest of winter days, the brightest of sunsets.”

Carmilla took the jewel from her again without a word and turned it over in her hands. There was some sort of unknown deepness to it, green folds on top of each other, each glittering like an ocean of green; the color was so intense it could have drowned her if she had looked into it long enough.  _ And it probably will.  _ The thought of getting lost in that should have excited her, but it only scared her.

_ It would have gone well with Lyanna’s eyes,  _ she thought.

So she left it on that lady’s stand and smiled at her as best as she could before leaving and walking around the wooden stands. In one, there were little notebooks with wood covers, carved and painted. In another, there was the most beautiful dress Carmilla had ever seen, but she didn’t even allow herself a second glance back at it until the seller met her eye and gestured her over.

“Do you like it?” He asked, in the Old Valyrian tongue.

“Ah- yes,” Carmilla admitted back and looked over the dress. It was a simple black one, with a v-shaped neckline in both the front and the back, revealing most of her back and breasts.  _ This would show off my tattoo,  _ Carmilla thought and reached over to feel her shoulder-blades. The sleeves were short, sheer, and cut into simple ruffles.

“Here, take it-”

“Oh, no, thank you,” She said as he reached up and took the dress off its rack, folding it and putting it into the red-colored wrap. “I couldn't.”

“No, please do,” He insisted as he began to wrap the dress with a black ribbon.

“I have no money for this,” Carmilla said in a last attempt to deter him- she felt bad for taking the dress, almost.  _ You, feeling bad for taking a dress? What about the other things you have taken? _ “Really.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Promised the seller. “It’s on me. Please.”

“Thank you,” She said to him, confused. The material in her hands was light and soft, running through her fingers when she touched it, like water.  _ It must be silk,  _ she thought, but it looked like ordinary cotton.

The seller said nothing back, so Carmilla left clutching that bag by her side, wandering through a multitude of stalls and stores, the air smelling like smoke and meat in some places, while in others she smelled only the woodsmoke smell this entire place carried. Her vision was awashed with yellow and orange from a thousand little lights, all of which seemed to come from nowhere. A singer stood at a street corner, singing a song she had never heard before; singers like that showed up a lot around the camp she used to live in. 

She walked on, and felt someone behind her, breathing warm air onto her back; or was that just the fire? Slightly blinded by the million little lights, like a thousand fires, she turned around and saw no one but the warm picture of the crowd and the singer.  _ A pure world,  _ Carmilla thought.  _ I don’t belong here. _

In her head, she knew what to do.

“Carmilla?” Haise asked from behind her; she never saw his face, but from the tone, knew it was him. She turned around, smiled at him, and pat his shoulder.

“You go on and leave without me, I’ll find my way home. Don’t stay up too late,” She added at the end, in hopes that he would leave her alone.

“Are you sure?” Haise asked, looking at Mercy and Dareon. “I can always call a taxi for you, if you want-”

“I have somewhere I need to go.” She told the three of them, and when Haise opened his mouth to ask more questions, she shook her head, shooting him a look; that shut him up quickly.  _ If I could, I would feel bad.  _ The look on his face was akin to the one on the Major’s when she-  _ what did I do again? _ “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Sure, no problem,” Dareon said, grabbing Haise’s hand as he began to protest.  _ He doesn’t like me,  _ Carmilla decided.  _ I can see it in his eyes.  _ Dareon really was a good looking person; but good looking did not make up for the fact that he would hate her forever.  _ He can smile at me all he likes,  _ she thought,  _ but behind my back, he will always call me a murderer.  _

She would find little comfort in this place; she would find little comfort in the two of them, or any of the rest of the coven too.  _ I’m on my own now,  _ Carmilla thought. A long time ago, there had been a hole where her heart had once been. A month ago, she had filled that hole in her heart, but now it was back again.  _ And the entire north- no, all of the seven kingdoms could not fill the space  _ she  _ left behind when she died.  _

Carmilla watched them leave through the eyes of a child, and then turned the other way to listen to the singer, although he was already long gone by then.

(WIP)


	5. adonis

**Adonis**

Adonis was a cute kid; his cousins always told him so when they were around.

“You’re a cute kid, Adonis,” Khailee said. “But girls want  _ men _ , not boys. Plus, you’re what, twenty this year? About time.”

“I’m fourteen, actually,” Adonis had protested, but Khailee had dragged him, along with the rest of her own little court downtown to this ratty party. All that reassurance about ‘staying with him’ went with the wind at the sight of the first pretty girl, at which his cousin promptly dropped him from her side to go flirt with a blonde, the rest of her court following, hovering around at a distance trying to look inconspicuous. 

So, yeah. There was that.

He sat alone near the doorway, perfectly straight, hands clasped in his lap.  _ They’ll be back soon,  _ he thought, as he looked around the dim room.  _ And then I can beg them to take me home, or something.  _

That was nearly an hour ago, and none of Khailee’s court had showed up-  _ What if they left me?  _ His mother had gotten drunk once and left him sitting by the road when he was little; Adonis had almost frozen to death from that incident. His mother apologized profusely, but that did not stop it from happening again and again until eventually, his cousin came to stay with them.

Khailee was his only company; his mother was never around either way, but that was okay with Adonis, because their house was pretty big, so they never had to worry about running into each other if they tried.  _ Some days even Khailee wouldn’t show up, _ he remembered out of nowhere, and felt silly.  _ That was a long time ago. When I was little.  _

Adonis stood up and walked across the dim club to a fish tank, lit by neon lights, and pressed his face to the cold glass as the fish drifted back and forth, turned blue by the lights. In his eye, the fish were no more than little specks of paint, made by a broad brush against a transparent piece of paper.

And suddenly, the flecks of paint parted to reveal a woman on the other side, looking down at the ground; not paying attention to Adonis, and in that moment, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He watched as she looked up slowly and met his eyes, and instead of shrinking away like he usually would, he found that he didn’t even have the energy to do that.  _ It’s as if she’s drawing me in,  _ he thought, and reached out to touch his fingers against the glass, meeting her own fingers as she looked at him and put her hand on the glass.

For a second, the world was nothing more than the two of them, meeting gazes through the glass and water and millions of broad brush strokes, as if there was no space in between. He let his lips ghost over the glass, not close enough to fog it up, but far enough so that she could still see him and meet his eye.

Her skin was the color of ivory in the dim light, and as she moved closer her dark eyes lightened to a frightening dark red. Adonis could see the short scar across the bridge of her nose;  _ a soldier?  _

When she moved her hand across the glass, he moved it too in a way that was almost trance-like… And when she looked up again to truly meet his eyes, he nearly looked away and flushed; her face showed no emotion, but in the dim light he could see the glitter of something in her large, almond-shaped eyes.  _ She’s watching me,  _ he knew at once,  _ not truly watching, as in a skin-deep gesture, but  _ watching. 

She tracked his movements, almost, and when he moved to the side slowly, to clear free of the reeds and coral that were blocking their views of each other, she moved with him as if she were being tugged on by a string; realizing her own actions, the corners of her mouth perked up in an almost heavy-looking smile.  _ How much effort does it take her to smile?  _ She had cold, sad eyes. All thought of Khailee was soon lost when they met each other’s eyes again, and she moved the other way slowly- a moment of panic seized him.  _ Is she going to leave? _

The woman did not leave, instead choosing to make eye contact with him as they almost circled each other, like a scene in a movie. The thought of that made him laugh, and at the sight of that, she almost laughed too.

For a moment, everything stood still, and then the silence was broken by-

“Adonis!” Someone shouted from behind him, and just like that, the dream ended and he looked away from her first, the brush stroke fish moving in between them again. 

When his name wasn’t repeated a second time, he turned around to look for the woman again, although by that time, she was long gone.  _ Or maybe she was never there in the first place. _

Some guy gave him a heavy look; one you’d give to an adult, not a little boy, like Khailee said. But rather than feeling proud, like he should have, he felt embarrassed and even scared.  _ I don’t belong here,  _ he thought, and stood up to leave the club. But somehow, along the way out, he got lost, and found himself going out the back door and into the dark alleyway behind the bar. 

Instantly, he was hit with a breath of cold air, and remembered that he wasn’t even close to home, but rather halfway across the country, in the North with his cousin, who was insistent to find a match for the two of them.  _ If mother won’t,  _ Khailee declared proudly, showing off the gown she had commissioned with her own money,  _ I’ll take both of us and find a match. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to seduce some great lord- or lady- into falling in love with me. And maybe they’ll have someone for you too. _

Adonis let out a breath of steam, and shook his head for some reason, hugging himself now and turning where he stood; the air smelled like gun oil and smoke.

For a second, everything was still, and he felt infinite for some reason, in the back of that small alleyway, with the music still playing from behind the thin, wooden door, muffled by the thick winter air.

Adonis closed his eyes and looked down before a loud bang resonated throughout the alleyway, and the music flooded into the darkness, along with shouting and cheers. He turned around to see the door close again, and some figure step out towards him.

“Hello, sir,” He said timidly after a long silence had passed, with the man doing nothing but staring at him. At the sound of his words, the man began to step closer; Adonis realized it was the singer, who played over the loud music outside, near the doorway.

“Hello,” Slurred the man, and as he stumbled towards Adonis, Adonis took a step back; he could smell the alcohol on his lips, and from the way he moved, Adonis could tell that he was obviously drunk. “Sweet Adonis, I am Charles. I saw you in the rain, all alone; the night is chilly. Let me warm you.”

“Charles?” Adonis said uncertainly. “You are… kind to think of me, but I’m- I’m sorry, I’m really tired. I think I’m going back inside. I’m really tired.”

“And really beautiful. All night, I have been making songs for you inside my head. A ballad for your lips, a duet to sing between your legs… I will not sing to them, though, not with my lips- unless you want me to. Let me sing to you with my body instead.”

“You’re drunk.” Adonis said dumbly.

“Drunk? Nonsense. I don’t get drunk. I get merry…” The man reached towards him and grabbed his thigh, sliding rough hands up to his hips. “I am on fire, and so are you.”

Adonis gasped aloud as his shoulders were grabbed, and the singer pulled him forward roughly, into an almost hug, although Adonis pulled away. Some time ago, Khailee had insisted he train with her at arms; now, he was glad of her persistence.

“Unhand me. You forget yourself.” He found enough courage in him to still his voice and command, like Vera would. The singer heard nothing of the steel in his voice, however.

“You’re scaring me-  I’m going back inside.” Adonis repeated, and before he could turn around, the singer had him pinned to the wall, stinking breath up in Adonis’ face as his dirty hands pressed against the bare skin peeking out from beneath his shirt. 

“Oh, young Adonis,” The singer said, leaning even closer to him, as if he meant to kiss him. “They say there is no person born with more lust in this world than a young lordling before he has presented. Are you wet for me?”

“I’m a virgin,” Adonis said, almost tearfully as the singer fumbled at his neckline, groping at his chest as if he were a girl. “Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I swear, so please let me go.”

“A virgin?” The singer ignored the rest of his pleas as he turned him around and began rocking back and forth. “Oh, Adonis,” He said, in a voice laced with wine and sleep.  _ How does he know my name?  _ Was Adonis’ thought as he tried to squirm away. “Give me the gift of your innocence, sweetling, I promise you’ll not regret it.”

“Please don’t, please just- I won’t tell anyone about this, I swear, just leave me alone,” Adonis pleaded, but before he could finish, the singer was leaning forward and groping at him, nearly tearing the hem of his shirt before Adonis heard the soft sound of steel on leather. The singer must have heard it too, because he turned around and spat angrily at the person he could not see. The light, as dim as it was, revealed the sharp glint of bared steel.

“Find your own bitch,” The singer began before he saw the flash of light; the knife had moved forward and into his white t-shirt, cutting him on the side of the neck. 

The moment was enough for Adonis to wrench himself away from the singer’s hands.

“You cut me!” He shrieked, turning around to see who it was, and throwing a blind punch, although the steel was quickly sheathed and the punch was held by a small hand. 

“I’ll cut more,” His unknown savior said.  _ Khailee?  _ Adonis thought at first, but the voice was not Khailee. “Away with you, dog. There’s girls trying to get into the club at the front. You’d better get those fingers working if you want to earn money.”

The singer stared at her, confused, before wandering off through the door with a grunt. 

Adonis shivered, staring at him as he left, before his attention turned to the person- the woman, he could see now- in front of him. Whatever steel she had used to cut the singer with, there was no sight of it now; in her hands was a cigarette and a lighter. 

“Thank you,” He said miserably, hugging himself before he realized that his shirt had a tear in it, all the way down to his belly. 

“For what?” The woman leaned against the wall next to him, so that he could see her features clearly. She was too beautiful by half; her eyes were almond-shaped, dark, and the first thing he noticed when he looked at her face, copper and perfectly cut, which had a roguish, harsh beauty to it. Her lips were full, and painted red, and her perfect face was framed by a head of black curls, of which made her look like she had just gotten out of bed. “Being a decent human being isn’t anything to thank me for.”

“Still- Thank you. You were so…” Adonis tried to find a word.  _ Brave? Selfless?  _ None of those felt right, but luckily, the woman chose not to bring it up. The woman slightly intimidated him, in some ways, and he had scarcely met her. There was something about her, however, a dangerous air, one that his mother would have called ‘sinful’.  _ She reminds me of the outlaws I see, in the books and the movies. The ones that ride around on horses, with guns slung on their sides, and have those old, western voices.  _ “Sorry.”

“For what?” The woman asked again.

“I- Um, I’m Adonis.” He said, and looked up from the ground to see the woman staring at him with a sort of fierce intensity. “Adonis Estermont.”

“Estermont,” The woman raised an eyebrow, and brought a cigarette to her lips, pulling a lighter out of the pocket of the jacket that was slung over her shoulders. “What’s a southron boy doing so far north?”

“I’m here with my cousin.” He blushed, staring at the cigarette, in between her red lips.  _ I know smoking is a bad habit, but…  _ Adonis watched as she looked away from him carefully, the ghost of a smile gracing her face.  _ She makes it look so good. _

“And how old are you?” The woman asked, tilting her head to the side. More smoke drifted from between her lips, and he watched as it vanished into the cold air.  _ Women like that,  _ Khailee had once said to him,  _ you stay away from them, you hear me? She’ll rob you and leave you to die, especially because you’re rich.  _

“Eighteen,” He blurted out, pleased with his choice.  _ I don’t even look eighteen,  _ he thought after more thought, and tried to hide his embarrassment. “I’m- I’m eighteen.”

She looked at him up and down again, obviously disbelieving. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m eighteen.” Adonis confirmed, looking around him.  _ I should have stayed with Khailee,  _ he thought, slightly panicked now.  _ I should have. _ “I turn nineteen soon.”

“I see.” She didn’t seem convinced.

“What’s your name?” Adonis asked after a while, looking back at her shyly; in the pale, almost fluorescent green light, he could see the red of her eyes glowing, glowing. “I’m Adonis.”

The look she gave him broke so many red lights that Khailee had once warned him about, but somehow talking to her made him feel wicked, and somehow feeling wicked was nice.  _ I can be like Vera,  _ he thought with a determination.  _ I can be wicked, and rebellious, like Vera. _

“I know your name. You told me once, already. Better that you don’t know mine,” The woman said, and it took Adonis a while to realize she was talking about her name; so long was the time period that passed between her answers. “Shouldn’t you go back inside and look for a suitor, like your cousin?”

_ I’m not old enough  _ was what he almost said; what he did say was, “I’m not sure I’d be able to find one.”

She watched him from the corner of her eye, intrigued.  _ And for what reason?  _ Adonis was not Khailee, nor Vera, really.  _ I’m just Adonis. _

“I’ll be your suitor.” The woman joked, and Adonis nearly froze before realizing that it was just a joke. “I’m playing with you. God knows I’m no highborn lady.”

_ No, but you speak like one, and carry yourself like you’re made of stone,  _ Adonis decided as he watched her smoke distractedly, the dark lines of her dress blending in with the graffiti behind her.  _ If Khailee were here, she’d whistle and say ‘damn’ to me, I think _ . 

“You can still be my suitor, even if you weren’t.” Adonis said, rushing his giggles to cover up the fact that he  _ kinda?-  _ meant it. “I can teach you how to talk highborn, ‘n everything. You could walk with books on your head.”

She smiled slightly at that; her eyes so bright that he almost believed it was real. 

“Could I, my lord?” The woman teased, and Adonis squirmed almost uncomfortable for a second as their eyes met from across the dirty alleyway, but the moment was quickly broken by the door opening again, casting light into the dark alleyway and breaking through the muffled curtain of music.  _ My lord,  _ Adonis thought curiously as someone hollered a name he didn’t catch. “My lord, I think they’re calling you.”

Adonis looked up to see his little cousin (he called her little when in reality, she was older than him by two years), Tyanna, hollering at the top of her lungs for him before the door slammed close again.

“Damn, I- I uh, better get back inside before she starts crying- again, sorry,” Adonis stammered, before turning to leave her. A sudden madness seized him, almost, and he turned around to say one last thing to her, because he was not brave enough to ask for her name again, or her number. “And, um, lowborn girls say m’lord.”

The woman looked up with a different look; the look of recognition. Her eyes stared at him, although they weren’t really seeing him, not  _ really;  _ in some ways, she was looking into the past, almost. Just as fast as it had come, it cleared up and she looked at  _ him  _ again.

“Then maybe I’m not as lowborn as you think.” She whispered, voice so soft it could scarcely be heard over the music inside. Shivers ran up Adonis’ spine, and he knew the woman could see. “Cold? You can take my jacket, if you wish. It might be too low born for you, my lord.”

_ She’s teasing me,  _ he thought with a fierce blush, although it quickly lightened when she draped the coat over his shoulders. “I, um, thank you- but how will I give this back?”

“You won’t.” The woman told him, like it was a command.  _ A soldier, maybe?  _ “This is a brisk autumn day, at best. Winter gets colder and colder.”

“A girl in Oldtown told me once, that she liked to ice her wine. That’s the best place for ice, if you ask me.” Adonis enjoyed her company, in a way; if only she didn’t make him feel like everything he was saying was coming out of the mouth of a child.

“In wine?” Her eyes glittered. “I agree. Here in the North, the best and only place for ice is in the air.”

“And on the sidewalks,” He offered, despite the fact that he could hear his cousins yelling for him through the door now. “But I mean- I mean it’s always been, been this way, right?”

“I don’t know, has it?” This time, her tone was teasing, but at the same time, he could not tell what for.  _ Did I say something?  _ “You tell me, my lord.”

“Yeah,” Adonis defended, wrapping the jacket around himself.  _ Real leather,  _ he decided at the feel of it.  _ And expensive perfume; definitely not a low born girl.  _ He felt embarrassed for even thinking that way. “Yeah, yeah. The North has always been this cold.”

The woman leaned close to him so that he could feel the heat radiating off her; her skin was the shade of copper, although she filled the air with warmth.  _ This is a cold woman,  _ he knew, despite the warmth around him. “Then you know nothing, Adonis Estermont.”


	6. carmilla

 

**Carmilla**

She sat on a couch, leaning back into the dirty fabric until her head met the wall behind them, and tried to ignore the crying of the girl on the man’s lap next to her.  _ Find your own wench,  _ the singer had hissed, but deep down in her heart, she’d wanted  _ him. _

“Hey,” The man said from next to her. “Hey, you- you, uh, okay with this?”

Carmilla wiped away the trail of white powder from underneath her nose and sniffled, a shudder running through her body. “Not my club.”  _ Technically, it is. _

He smiled a drug-stained grin at her and went back to work on that topless girl, while Carmilla looked away and ignored the two of them.  _ Him,  _ she thought as the drugs did their work.  _ Him, him, him _ .

Where had she seen a face like his before? Carmilla looked past the man’s drug stained smile and saw the boy- Adonis?- from before. In her mind’s eye, he almost looked like Lyanna…  _ Wishful thinking,  _ she told herself.  _ You stupid girl, you wolf bitch. Did you think you could hold something so magical and not break it? _

She thought of the feeling of Lyanna’s hand in hers, cold and clammy with freezing sweat.  _ Remember that,  _ Carmilla said to herself,  _ remember how it felt and how you screamed when she died. How could you?  _ The drugs asked her.

That time, she did not have the courage to respond.

“You got anymore?” She asked, her voice heavy and slurred. Carmilla sniffled again, and nearly coughed up blood when she felt her entire body shudder. 

The man scoffed. “What, I look like a dealer?”

“Isn’t that what you are?” She crossed her legs and watched as the man grunted and shoved the girl off his lap, her breasts bouncing as she did, and pushed her towards a little cabinet to get more.

“She’s lovely, ain’t she,” The man sniffled as he leaned into her space; for a druggie, he wasn’t bad looking. Blonde hair like straw, nice, full lips, and thin wrists she could probably take and pin above his head with one hand. “But if you asked nicely, I’d put her aside. I’d rather have you.”

“What’s stopping you?” She turned to the side and reached for her half-finished bottle of beer, chugging it down as she spread her legs slightly; an invitation. When his eyes widened and he leaned down between her legs, his tongue already out, she put her heel on his face and pushed him back. “I’ll answer that; my lack of cocaine is stopping you.”

The girl returned at that moment, setting down a wood block and another packet of white powder, along with a razor and a limp dollar bill.

“There’s your cocaine,” The man said, grinning widely, and put his hands on her thigh and up her skirt. “Where’s my payment?”

In answer to that, she propped her leg up and let him slide her skirt up, his hands rough on her scars as he leaned in, his beard scraping the inside of her thighs. As his tongue got to work, she let out a blissful sigh, and spilled out more white powder; some of it got on her dress, but she didn’t care.  _ It’s not like I’m in short supply, or anything.  _ Besides, it was just  _ one night.  _ One night never hurt anyone.

She let out another heavy breath as he worked with more feverety, loudly sucking as if he were starving.  _ Die,  _ she thought vengefully as she scratched her nails down his back, letting out another breath.  _ Die, die, die. _

As she leaned down to scratch at his back with one hand, she rolled up the bill with the other and put it to her nose, sniffing up the entire line in one go and letting out a loud groan as he pumped his tongue in and out of her.

“Fuck,” She said, entirely from the drugs, and then again, from him. “Fuck, fuck.”

He went at it for a good five minutes before she shuddered and let out a loud breath, throwing her head back and clenching her jaw as the sweet, sweet sugar rushed through her veins and down her back, through the red blood in her arms and her torso and down there.

“Was that good?” He asked when he pulled away, and Carmilla made no move to answer.  _ This is my last night,  _ she told herself, but everything hurt; it hurt getting to this club and it hurt even more this morning, when she got out of that hospital bed for the first time.  _ Was that really only this morning? _

She finished her line and set down the wooden block carelessly, sitting upright again as soon as he moved away.

“What do you think?” Carmilla said in response to his question, and when he had no words, pressed a fifty dollar bill into his palm.  _ Just one night, just one night _ , she told herself, and when she looked into his face she saw Major Rainer’s. 

_ How could you?  _ He asked, 

“I’ll do anything you want for fifty dollars,” He grinned, and unbuckled his pants.

“Do anything you want to that girl, if she’s still here.”

“You sure? I’ll have you screaming.”

“If anything, it’ll be you doing the screaming,” She told him, and pulled aside her neckline to reveal a hint of wet steel. When he said nothing in response to that, again, she sat up and shook her head, letting the leftover rail go down easy.

“Will you come back?” He asked, lighting a cigarette and tossing her one.

_ No,  _ she wanted to say,  _ no, no, this is only one night, I just wanted to try. I’m not a druggie, I swear, I’m a good person who went down the wrong staircase,  _ she wished she could say, but the universe where she was just a stupid little girl, scared of getting caught, was gone.  _ I’m not a druggie, I’m a good person _ , she told herself.

“Nah. This was a one time thing.” Carmilla said carelessly, and shut the door behind her when she left, uncomfortably wet. 

Outside, she was met with a concerned Haise.

“Where were you?” He greeted, and Carmilla brushed him off, sniffing loudly and coughing again.

“Good to see you too, Haise.” 

“I’m serious, where were you?” He tried to put his hand on her shoulder, although she shrugged him off and brushed a hand underneath her nose, coughing again and stumbling. “We were worried.”

“I actually don’t care.” 

“Are you okay?” Mercedene asked gently, and when she put her arm around Carmilla’s shoulders, Carmilla did not pull away. “You had us worried, sweetling.”

_ She’s scared of me,  _ Carmilla knew at once.  _ That, or she wants something from me. Something that I can’t even reach myself. _

“For what reason? I can take care of myself, Mercedene.”

Mercedene didn’t flinch away from her harsh tone, instead choosing to say again, “You can call me Mercy, if you’d like.”

“Mercy,” Carmilla said, testing out the sound of the word on her tongue.  _ Mercy, mercy,  _ was what the knight beneath her had cried out when he fell from his horse and onto his arm, screaming. “Mercy.”

“Yeah.”

“Mercy, what’s wrong?” She asked bluntly once Haise and Dareon were out of hearing range. 

“Sorry, it’s just- you’re very different from when I saw you in the war.”

Haise started walking slower in front of them. 

“Who you are and who you need to become to survive are two very different things.”

“Not for me,” Mercedene said softly, and touched her cheek, too close to her scar to be comforting. Carmilla pulled away, almost nervous, and then straightened up again, stumbling down the street once more.  _ Die,  _ she thought numbly, feeling her head sink all the way down to the bottom of her heels.  _ Die, die, die. _ Or was she already dead?

Carmilla stopped in the middle of the street, forcing Mercedene to stop as well, and when she looked over at Carmilla, she reached over and put a hand on her cheek.  _ She’s real,  _ Carmilla thought,  _ this is real, all of it.  _ The great game, and the smaller festivities that had followed…  _ all of it is real.  _ And she had been pushed into the center of everything, whether she liked it or not. 

_ But you like it,  _ said a voice.  _ You love this. You love me. _ In her hazy mind, it almost sounded like Lyanna…

***

Dawn found her sitting by a crystal pool, leaning against a tree trunk as snow melted and dripped onto her head slowly; she felt as if she were dying.  _ And what a lovely day that will be. _

Haise found her not soon after, and said nothing except to take her arm and walk her back to the castle, where the rest of the coven was already gathered inside the glass-roof solar; most of the times, they held their meetings here, because Veenah and Delilah enjoyed the familiar heat.  _ How?  _ The glass gardens were, as their name suggested,  _ gardens,  _ with a small glass table in the middle for meetings. Mercedene despised it as well, Carmilla could tell; she had mosquito bites all over her long legs every time she sat there, but put up with it for the sake of her fiancee, Veenah.

“We’ve already started,” Veenah said at the sight of her.

“Don’t let me stop you.” Carmilla leaned forward, over the map to see small patches of turquoise spread over the map. “What’s going on?”

“We just wanted to make sure  _ you  _ knew what was happening.” Sarisa said.

“I know what’s happening, Velaryon loyalists are trying to take the throne because they think it belongs to them, and put a new queen into place after a long and grueling civil war, which will undoubtedly starve the royal treasury and throw us all into chaos.”

“I know how much the war affected you,” Delilah piped up from behind them, swaying in her seat, almost. Carmilla could feel nausea coming up again, for some reason.

“Affected me?” Her hand went up, to the scar across her nose. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m sorry you have to be at the center of another brewing war again, right after you were in the center of another.” Delilah told her, not unkindly. “One war is enough nightmare fuel for a lifetime. I can’t imagine two.”

No one said anything, and Delilah looked up from her book.

“Yeah, well…” Euphasia had nothing to say. “I’m sorry that you have to be in the center of it all too.” The word ‘sorry’ felt plastic on her tongue. “And there won’t be another war. These are just the clean-up operations. They happen all the time.” In truth, she didn’t know anything about clean-up operations.  _ After battles, yes.  _ But after wars was another story.

“Truly?” Delilah questioned.

“Truly.”

“The attacks have stopped.” 

Carmilla turned to see Mercedene, puzzled as she leaned over the two maps.

“How do you know that?” 

“These maps are virtually the same; we’ve received no report of attacks since two days ago.” Mercedene whispered nervously. “Usually we get at least one in a day, but there’s been zero activity so far. Why?”

Carmilla exchanged glances with Delilah.

“I say they’re planning something; something to take place in King’s Peace.” Sarisa concluded, and drew her finger across the arrows she had drawn earlier, all pointing to King’s Peace. The amounts of dots clustered around the lines were frightening; they nearly blotted out the landscape of the map.

“They haven’t even reached King’s Peace yet!”

Carmilla let them argue, and leaned back in her seat, her eyes rolling back as she closed the,. She took a moment to enjoy the cold streaming in through a window before a creaking sound indicated said window being closed, and opened her eyes again; everything seemed to be moving in slow motion for a second, blurry colors and bright lights streaming in from above her.  _ Where have I seen this before? _

She vaguely remembered a face through the glass, peeking through the blue-illuminated water, soft and boyish, although everything she had done last night seemed less memorable than the last. Now, all she could see was his bright, brown eyes, burning into her memory and leaving a single, aching mark.  _ Who are you?  _

“Are we going to go to King’s Peace?” Mercedene asked her, and Carmilla sat up, shaking her head and sniffing again. 

“That would be the best course of action,” Sarisa decided, and looked at her for approval.

“It would.” Delilah agreed, and suddenly Carmilla felt them moving in closer to her.

“Yeah, from here, all we can do is watch and send commands to King’s Peace, and god knows they might not even be received. The best way to answer this is to take action into our own hands,” Veenah piped up, the inclusion of her voice spurring the rest of them onwards into a flurry of high voices.

“The capital is still broken from the war-”

“Why haven’t they fixed it yet? It’s been a year already…”

“But say the occasion that a war would arise, the capital would be highly unprepared.”

“I heard from an alleyway that the rebels have amassed a following of nearly five thousand!” Mercedene declared, and the rest of the girls fell silent only to exchange glances and echo, ‘ _ five thousand!’ _

“Your Grace, this must be answered  _ fiercely! _ ” Sarisa declared, her face flushed, her hair messy as if she had just come from the embrace of some lover.

Carmilla took a look at the four of them, crowding her with shining eyes, and took a deep breath before recoiling at the rush it sent to her head.

“I’ll sleep on it.” She decided, and waved them off. The answer seemed to satisfy them, as they left without complaint; Mercedene trailed her a final, sad look, like a hungry child asking for bread.  _ What for?  _ Carmilla thought as she put her hand on the side of her head, before scratching at a vein in her left arm.  _ What does she want from me? _ There was something underneath her skin; something hot, and rushing, and Carmilla had to get it out.  _ I have nothing, nothing left to give,  _ she thought as she scratched at her skin, drawing blood.

The glass gardens were hot, she found, so hot that they seemed to be fogging up the inside of her eyes, almost…  _ Where am I?  _ She scratched at her arm, smearing blood over sandy skin.  _ Where is my mind?  _ Carmilla felt warm, warm blood, spreading across the entirety of her arm, and let her eyes roll to the back of her head.  _ Where is my mind?  _ She heard someone ask.  _ Where? _

She woke up in the middle of the night, in her own bed; clearly someone had put her there.  _ Haise, maybe?  _ Carmilla sat up and found that her arm was bound in silk, with a little bow tied at the end to wrap it off; red flowers bloomed from the spot where her cut was.

Carmilla sat up and felt her head ache with a fierce intensity, throbbing as she turned over and coughed, sniffing again.  _ Fuck,  _ she thought, and lifted her hands to her face, beginning to scratch there too.  _ Fuck, fuck. _

At the sight of her face, she began clawing, and when she pulled her hands away, there were tears running down her cheeks and blood running down her arm again; this time, the two almost felt the same.

_ I’m so ugly,  _ she thought, touching her hair and then her distraught, gaunt eyes. In the south, people regarded tan skin with the highest regard; and she agreed.  _ It’s beautiful, and blemishes are easy to conceal, and there was no such thing as too dark when you were beautiful…  _ Her skin was transparent; she felt like a ghost.  _ Maybe that’s what I am.  _

She sat up again, coughing a wet cough raggedly, feeling like she was about to throw up; something throbbed at the back of her head.  _ Die,  _ she thought as she rubbed at the back of her head.  _ Die, die, die, die. _

By her bedside was a tray with a cup of coffee, a flat bowl of some sort of soup, and a sandwich. On that tray, there was also a little note that read ‘Cocaine is bad. Here’s a sandwich.’

Carmilla wanted to laugh at how absurd it was, almost, and then she reached over to pick up the sandwich, taking a small bite before almost gagging; not that it was bad, or anything, just the taste was so strong. Coughing, she sniffled, before leaning over and emptying her guts into the nearest trash can.

When she sat up again, she choked on her own spit and drew more red lines down her cheek with her own fingernails, and when the mirror reminded her again of the unpleasant reality, Carmilla stormed over and shattered it. That made her feel better, better enough to kick aside the mess on her floor and sit down on the dresser table to do her makeup.

There was a loud knocking on her door, and before Carmilla could even answer, Sarisa burst in and breathed heavily for a moment.

“What? What is it?” Carmilla demanded, running towards her. “What’s happened?”

“Well, for starters, the lord of Crakehall is dead,” Sarisa said, and Carmilla nodded before remembering who he was.  _ A general,  _ she thought.  _ He used to toss sweets at me from a distance. Never too close, though. _ Once, Carmilla had heard him talk to a puppy. “I only get close to people,” He was saying, and that made Carmilla sob with relief, almost. She wasn’t  _ ‘people’. _

“I see.”

“And something else.”

“What is that ‘something else’?”

“A message. Someone left it on Haise’s desk, he- he couldn't open it.” Sarisa took a deep breath and took her hand soon after. “Are you decent?”

Carmilla looked down at the blanket she held over herself, and tossed it off. “No, not really, but this can’t wait, can it?”

Sarisa paused for a moment to stare at her, before shaking her head. “No, not really.”

She followed Sarisa down to that solar, which was lit by torches and a zippo lighter in Sarisa’s hand. 

“Has the power gone out?” Carmilla touched the walls and looked up at the dark lights.

“I- yeah. It’s because of the storm outside, I guess; this wing’s lost power, anyways.” Sarisa led her into the solar and pushed open the door, where Haise and the rest of the girls were gathered around the wooden box in the center of the table. “Haise?”

“I found this on my desk,” Haise said as the beginning of an explanation. “With a lense inside.” Everyone leaned close as he picked up the lens; wrapped in ornate gold work with a crystal clear lens, and a little golden antenna that had a rose quartz stone at the top.”

“A lens, huh?” Veenah took the lens and raised it to her face. “It’d be a different perspective on things, for sure.”

“So we should look for a different perspective on the box,” Sarisa concluded, and Carmilla rolled her eyes, sitting back in the chair.

“Wow, look at us, the fucking CIA.” Carmilla joined them as Sarisa held the box above her head, Mercedene following with the zippo lighter as a source of light. “Law and Order.”

“I didn’t know you watched  _ Law and Order, _ ” Mercedene remarked from the side, still straining to hold the lighter above Sarisa.

“I don’t,” Carmilla said carelessly, and pulled out her cigarette. “If you have time to hold that lighter in a lit room, come light my cigarette first.”

Mercedene, at the sound of her voice, wandered over and put the cigarette at the butt of her cigarette, letting the orange flame touch and burn away at the end before taking it away.

“What are we looking at here?” Carmilla took the box from Mercy, running her fingers around the bed of the box and pushing down on the sides until something unlatched and popped open with a soft click. Nestled at the bottom, flattened by the weight of the wooden board was a folded note, with ink leaking onto the back. **_(WIP)_ **

“This must be answered fiercely,” Carmilla decided, mirroring Sarisa’s words from earlier. 

“What will you do?” Mercy asked from the side.

“Something, at the least. Start packing.”


	7. mercy

**Mercy**

After days of autumn storms and freezing cold water hitting her window so hard she felt as if it would break and fill her room with the cold outside, they finally reached warmer waters. For the first time in days, Mercedene felt comfortable enough to leave her bed, take a shower, do her makeup, and go outside with everyone else.

“Those were a rough couple of days,” Veenah said to her as a way of greeting when she emerged from her cabin and onto the deck, where Sarisa and Delilah were already gathered. “Have you seen Carmilla?”

Mercy shook her head.

“I haven’t. Why?”

“No reason.” Veenah lied, although Mercy could see it troubled her, somehow.  _ Why?  _ The air outside was a pleasant cool, with warm sunshine warming her, making her dark hair hot to the touch. The waters around them were crystal clear, so clear that it was frightening- all around her, she could see open sea, green and blue, like a crystal, but so clear that she could see the sea floor around them, dotted with coral reefs. What unnerved her was the faint spaces of black where the coral reefs dipped down into darkness. “Are  _ you _ okay?”

“Yeah,” Mercedene said. “I’m fine.”

“Have we docked yet?” Carmilla came up from the cabin, sniffling again.

“No, it just got warmer, actually.” Mercedene smiled at her. Carmilla walked past her as if she hadn’t seen it for a second, but turned around and watched. Mercy smiled again, and this time, Carmilla sniffled, brushed her hand across her top lip, and smiled hesitantly at her. 

Later in the day, about mid-noon, they sat on the deck together, save for Carmilla, who didn’t join them when they swam in the water all morning either.  _ She probably hates water,  _ Mercedene consoled.  _ Or us. Or herself. _

Carmilla came out in a black, sheer gown, and sat down next to them, stretching her legs out and picking up a glass of wine- around them, the water glittered as the ship swayed slightly. 

Mercedene watched Carmilla as she looked up for a second, scrunching up her nose slightly, sniffling, and standing up from the plastic deck to walk over to a small overhang. Mercedene watched her- not to be nosy or anything, just to see if she was okay.

Veenah followed her gaze to where Carmilla was standing, hugging herself, almost, arms covered with a black shawl, with a blank expression as a young man tearfully whispered in front of her.

The rest of the girls were watching now too- Sarisa had a sad look on her face, and turned to Delilah. 

“The poor boy,” Mercy heard them say, and watched as the boy broke into tears, covering his face with his hands. Carmilla looked down at the deck, left hand twitching as she seemed to reach out for him, before hugging herself again; from her point of view, the two of them were as different as fire and the glittering water surrounding them.

“What happened?” Veenah asked, and Mercy knew already- he had been limping for most of today, hair permanently messed up, almost, with swollen lips, but most of all he seemed to  _ glow _ with happiness until today.

“She’s leaving him.” Mercy put a hand on Veenah’s shoulders, who did not seem to understand yet.

“What do you mean?” 

Delilah shushed Veenah and turned away from Carmilla, Sarisa following and turning her attention back to the red strawberries before them. Mercedene kept watching as he reached out her hands and put them on her shoulders, sobbing louder- she could almost hear him from where she was.

“Please, m’lady, I could come with you- My father would kill me if he found out what we did,” He was begging, clutching her shoulders. Carmilla looked at him coldly, although she looked almost  _ sad,  _ for a second. Her left hand was twitching. “He  _ would,  _ you  _ know  _ him, please- you could take me with you into the castle, I could work there as a cook, or something, I could even be your whore, just-”

Carmilla shushed him and whispered something, shaking her head like she was in a trance- at that, the boy sobbed more and hugged her, with Carmilla’s arms trapped awkwardly at her sides. Mercedene felt as if she should look away, but something compelled her to keep listening and only nod at the other girls’ chatter.

“My father would kill me,” He said again. “Please, m’lady, I’ll be good. I’ll be good for you, I  _ was  _ good for you, can’t you at least find a place for me in the brothels, or something? Any brothel, it doesn’t have to be a good one-”

“I told you, Jason,” Carmilla’s voice was louder now, although none of the other girls gave any indication they could hear. “I can’t do that. Not…  _ Not- _ ”

“He’s in love with her,” Delilah murmured, at the sight of the two of them- Carmilla, cold as ice, with the sunlight warming her golden head of hair, and him, covering his- no doubt lovely face with both of his hands, dressed in the cabin boy’s clothes.

“Why?” Veenah wrinkled her nose, stretching across the deck to lay against the white plastic. “They’ve only been here for less than a week.”

“First heat, maybe. It does things to you.” Mercedene knew from personal experience.

“But I didn’t know- I didn’t think it was  _ that  _ bad.” 

Mercedene only shook her head, and went back to the strawberries as bits of their conversations floated over to them again-  _ Please don’t leave me, I’m scared, I’ll do anything,  _ and most of all,  _ I’m sorry.  _ Why should he be sorry? Carmilla should be sorry.

The sound of his crying haunted her as she saw the shoreline approaching, a thin dusting of green lining the horizon where green water met blue sky- Mercedene could have cried for joy when shouts came from above, and the ship swayed. Never had anything felt so sweet as the sensation of the front of their boat, touching against the wooden docks, and the feeling of hard, unswaying ground beneath her weary legs.

“Glad to be off?” Carmilla asked her, in an effort to be more casual.

“Very.” Mercedene could feel herself smiling despite everything.  _ I’m in a strange city, with only Veenah, and a group of people that I’ve never met before last month.  _ The dock they had landed at was a quiet, secluded one, connected to acres of lush vineyard, sweet-smelling orchid, and rolling hills. On top of a green hill was a large, sprawling villa, worn and cracked and red in the sunlight, but brown in the places where the shadow grew-  _ like a scene from a movie,  _ she thought,  _ like a scene from a beautiful, romantic movie.  _ Her hand grew tighter around Veenah’s, who was looking up at the mansion with a little smile.  _ I guess she’s stayed in better,  _ Mercedene knew at once, and brushed her fingers across her own warm, copper skin.

Everything was perfect when they made their way up the twisting, yellow dirt road in little carriages, drawn by real, charming, white horses- not the black and gray war ones they had in Winterfell’s stables. Rushing water, sweet-smelling air perfumed with the scent of ripening peaches and wildflowers, and thin gold curtains to keep out the dust and bugs.

Mercedene almost felt sad when they stopped, before she remembered that they were finally at the large, sprawling villa, illuminated this time in entirely red.  _ Back there, it was the end of autumn,  _ she knew,  _ but here, summer has only just begun.  _ Just like her life, Mercedene thought,  _ just like my life.  _ Her song started today.

The hallways were worn, and had open airways which were lined in arched doorways and marble balconies- she shared a wing with Veenah, while Delilah got the room at the end, and Sarisa had the room to the very right. Carmilla’s room was above theirs, and nearly twice the size, but Mercedene could find no complaint to her own, charming room.

_ I’m happy,  _ she thought with a little giggle as she spun back and forth in her room.  _ This, oh, this is nothing like Winterfell, with it’s bleak walls, and plain landscape.  _ Maybe no one else felt the same as her, but Mercy did not care.  _ I’m happy, happy, happy. _

She would not be happy for much longer.


	8. carmilla

 

**Carmilla**

Once they had left the ship and onto the docks, the boy from before came to her, sniffling and red-eyed, before handing her the baggage and nearly giving her a hug before she pushed him away delicately.  _ I wish,  _ she thought as she looked back at his tear-stained face.  _ I wish that I could.  _ Her hand was twitching again- she clutched it with her other to make it still.

The mistress of the house- Sybill Estermont came down to meet her at the docks, greeting her with a heavy embrace that smelled of perfume and lemon, along with a kiss on each cheek. Carmilla tried her hardest not to grimace, but failed nevertheless. 

“Welcome, Lady Stark” Sybill said with a large smile, although her eyes were full of malice, and greed.  _ I see,  _ she thought,  _ thank god I did not bring Jason with me.  _ He may have been just a cabin boy, too cocky and confident, but this woman would have taken one look at him and ripped him apart.

When they arrived at the mansion, Lady Sybill bowed respectfully and introduced her ward, Khailee, a sweet-natured, plain-faced girl with honest, brown eyes. 

“Khailee, now Khailee is a desperate flirt, I tell you,” Lady Sybill said as soon as the girl was out of earshot. “She hasn’t been able to catch a husband yet- I keep telling her to go find someone alone.”

“You didn’t want to make a match for her yourself?” Carmilla asked. That was uncommon, especially amongst noble-born girls.  _ And Khailee looks quite like Vera,  _ she remembered, thinking of her fellow girl-soldier, who she shared a tent with.

During the war, Vera was the only recruit who was willing to go into town and pick up dresses for her, and the only one who would get close enough to her when she was naked.  _ I was naked, and scared, and alone,  _ she thought bitterly,  _ and twelve. No one would come near me either way. _

“I would, but she’s only a second cousin. I’m not sure where my youngest has gone- Nevermind, he’ll show up eventually.”

_ This is a cold woman,  _ Carmilla thought. Through the warmth of her embrace and the wideness of her smile, Carmilla could see  _ want.  _ Want for what? What did the woman want from  _ her,  _ that she had not given away already?

“These, my lady, will be your honored guests’ quarters,” Sybill said with a little flourish, at the round solar room, with four doors surrounding said solar room, each labeled individually. “I will let them unpack for a short while before dinner, where we can talk more about all sorts of things,”  _ All sorts of things, meaning gossip,  _ Carmilla said to herself. Sybill led her onto a curved staircase, going around an elevator that led up to her own room- Carmilla thanked her politely, saying the words Haise had taught her before they left on this trip. “And your other guests will be situated in the wing leading up to the solar, of course, each with their own rooms- the two little twins have begged to share a room, however, if it please my lady.”

“It would please me if they are happy,” Carmilla bit her lip uncertainly as she looked around her own large rooms-  _ an entire suite,  _ her sister would have once said.  _ Befitting a king or a queen. I’m not either of those, thought,  _ Carmilla thought,  _ just me. Carmilla, I guess. _ “Let them do as they wish- and situate Haise’s room closest to mine, I will have need of him in the night.

“Right away, my lady.”

“Have guards situated as well, and keep the hallway lights on, albeit dim. Make sure no one comes in without my leave.” 

“Just so. Summerhall is very well situated, don’t you worry, beg many pardons, my lady. It’s usually only during the winter that thieves and others try to break in and loot the place.”

“Is it not almost winter?” Carmilla tilted her head to the side and looked outside her window, at a tranquil pond where girls in bright colored frocks giggled, gathering for some dance. 

“Not here- here, summer has only just started.” Sybill smiled and reassured her with a touch of the shoulder. “Here, we are warm all year, save for a month or two at the end and the beginning.”

“I see.” A world without cold seemed too good to be true, Carmilla knew.  _ She is only playing with me. _

“And I see that you are not impressed.” Sybill sighed in mock sadness. “We are not the most wealthy of households, and yet, I hope you will be comfortable here, lest more comfortable than the red keep. That  _ is  _ what you came here for, no?”

“It is,” Carmilla confessed coyly, letting nothing else slip. “But only in due time, and when I wish.” What she really said in her mind was,  _ the red keep is full of dirty spies and ugly rats.  _ “I do hope you know how dear our King is to me, and for me to show up here so suddenly, without any indication- his poor heart would give out.”  _ Far from it.  _ But Lady Sybill seemed to buy it with a knowing nod, and a finger to her lips. 

“I understand completely- shall I show you the garden?” 

Carmilla was in no hurry to see the garden, trailing a few feet behind Sybill as she pulled out her phone to check the time. Luckily, she had picked a place furthest from the palace as possible, but still within its boundaries, so if anything happened, she could work the rite of guest will as she wanted.  _ I shouldn’t have picked this place,  _ she knew at once. It’s towering doorways, arched balconies, and dark corners with dim sunlight streaming through opalescent windows reminded her too much of the red keep.  _ I should leave,  _ she thought,  _ I should have picked better.  _

“Like I said, Summerhall is half an hour away from the city, but an hour to the palace- by boat it is only half that time, and on horseback or bicycle, you could go over the hilltops and near the wall in twenty, I’d say. You’d have to go fast, though.” A maid approached the two of them, but Sybill dismissed her before she could get even a word out. 

Carmilla thought about King Charles, the last time she had seen him in person, when the war had originally ended, and then again, online, of a fat, old king that seemed nothing like the man she had once knew, during the war. During the war, King Charles was in his late-forties, although he had the look of a thirty-year-old. After the war had ended, rumors went around that he got addicted to drinking, and sleeping, and eating, and when he wasn’t doing one of those, he was hunting.  _ Hunting and drinking,  _ she thought with an odd satisfaction.  _ It suits him. _

King Charles was never a smart man, only strong and good at yelling. Once, he had shouted at Lyanna, and made her burst into tears-  _ She’s a whore, damn you,  _ he shouted at Carmilla.

_ I loved Lyanna,  _ she replied, stunned. King Charles was a hard, hard man to get used to, and even harder to be friends with. Hardly anyone wanted to put up with him; even less people had genuine feeling in their hearts for him. No doubt, after the war, he was a ghost of his former self-  _ or what his ‘former self’ ever really there at all? _

_ Was I ever really there at all, either? _

“The pizzaza,” Sang her host as she flung open the doors to the garden, revealing a deckered, marble pool sheltered by the shade of a few apricot trees, hiding it from the view of the window; beneath the largest tree was a swing, and on the other side of that swing was a table and two chairs. Without any warning, a blue wave of seawater swelled underneath her heart, and sitting at that table, half-naked, in nothing but a large t-shirt that resembled the  _ nirvana  _ one she owned, peeking at her from above a textbook was her wartime love.

It was the same person, almost, the same honey-hued skin, the same big, brown eyes, wide, the same chestnut head of hair. A shirt hid the rest of his young body from her view, but she remembered it almost from memory. Said shirt slipped off his shoulder, revealing miles of sun-kissed, unblemished skin, and in the few years she had been alive, waiting for all her life, she felt as if she had finally found something.  _ Love at first sight,  _ was the words that came to mind, but she could not explain nor recognize the flash, the shiver, the impact of passionate recognition. In the time of a single, sun-shot moment that her glance had slithered over  _ him,  _ while passing her in her adult disguise, the vacuum of her soul, or something beyond, managed to suck in every detail of his bright beauty.

She had no illusions, however.  _ There will be no love between us,  _ Carmilla knew at once as he looked into the distance, unseeing; he did not notice her.  _ Please don’t notice me,  _ she thought, but even more so,  _ please look at me. _ All she knew now was that while she and the Estermont woman went down the steps, her knees were like reflections of knees in rippling water, and her lips were like sand, and

“That was my Adonis,” She said, “And these are my roses.”

“Yes,” Carmilla said, “Yes, they are beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.”

***

“You’re Vera’s cousin?”

Khailee looked up from her book and smiled at Carmilla as soon as she saw who it was.

“Vera was my cousin, yeah. I’m here with Lady Sybill for the time-being.”

“And how long is that?”

“A few years, at least.”

“ _ Great, _ ” Carmilla rolled her eyes and set down the black cat in her arms, letting it run free. “I take it Lady Sybill is enthusiastic about that?”

“The exact opposite. She hates me, I’m sure.” Khailee let the cat wrap itself along her ankles, before shooing it off again. “I think she hates everyone, except Adonis.”

“Adonis, huh?” Carmilla said offhandedly. “What’s he like?”

“You haven’t met him?” Khailee’s sharp eyes followed the cat as it darted across the courtyard, padding along a stone wall before climbing into a tree. “Huh. That’s strange; he usually loves guests. He’s nice, yeah. Painfully naive, though- oh, and, he gets clingy sometimes.”

“Is he shy?”

“Some things, yeah. But not with strangers, at the very least. Why?”

“No reason, just thought I should get to know the heirs. That  _ is _ why you two are still here, right? To be Lady Sybill’s heirs?” Carmilla tried her best to look disinterested, leaning back in the chair until it tilted precariously on the two back legs. 

“Yeah, she was going to ship us off to the army if we weren’t omegas, and she almost sent Adonis off before they rejected her application- you see, he was too young.” Khailee explained, and when she did, her eyes glittered.  _ She’s really pretty,  _ Carmilla thought at once.  _ I can see Vera in her.  _

But more so, she could see Adonis.

“How old was he?”

“Eleven.”

_ That would make him 14 now,  _ she thought,  _ two years younger than me. _ She must have let a troubled look slip onto her face as she lit the cigarette and put it to her lips, because she saw Khailee coughing and then looking at her, before saying

“I know, it’s awful. Lady Sybill doesn’t care about either of us, now that I think about it.” Khailee looked around herself, to make sure no one was listening. “And I heard that she said if we didn’t find someone rich and influcential to marry,” She emphasized  _ rich _ and  _ influential _ , making Carmilla think for a moment of who she meant before-  _ oh. _ “We’d marry each other, which I think is gross. For one, I like girls, and we’re cousins, so that’s gross. Plus, it’s illegal.”

“If it’s illegal, she won’t dare do it while I’m here,” Carmilla said, despite the fact that ‘illegal’ and probably ‘gross’ were the two sentences that could always be put together when talking about her, “And I’ll be here a while. Either way, you’d better get to work, Khailee.”

Khailee stared at her, almost stunned, before smiling. “I’ve been going to work.”

“Work harder.”

There was a moment of awkward silence where Khailee pretended to read her book, and Euphrasia smoked cigarettes and thought about the moment she had seen Adonis’ face, and how, in that moment, she had remembered every perfect detail of it.

“Do you like King’s Landing?” 

“One big city full of fake bitches,” Carmilla summarized without thinking, blowing smoke from her mouth again, upwards so that it reached her nose. “But that’s only the parts I’ve been in, of course. Queen’s Landing is better.”

“Queen’s Landing is cold,” Khailee said. “I was there just last week, with Adonis and a few of my cousins. They’re the girls in the bright-colored frocks, by the way.”

“Huh.” Carmilla thought back to the night she had spent in a cocaine-fueled haze, swaying in that dimly lit club as the music was blasted too loud from shitty loudspeakers. “Where in Queen’s Landing?”

“We actually- we actually just got back on Wednesday, you see, I- actually, later today, there’s this really nice place down the street, right, a 1950s themed diner, okay, and- um- I was thinking, maybe you’d want to come with me? Adonis might be there, though, if that’s okay with you.” Khailee put her hand on Carmilla’s wrists, and Carmilla smiled. “If it please you, I can leave him here. It could just be us girls.”

“It would please me to please you,” Carmilla reassured charmingly, taking her hand. “You can bring him along- I’d like to know the little lordling.”

“Oh,” Khailee smiled. “Sure. So- so is that a yes?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. Um- I’ll come get you from your room, at half-past five.” 

“You could just say five-thirty.” Carmilla teased, letting her face relax when she sensed herself tensing up again. “You don’t have to be that formal around me.”

“O-Okay.” Khailee tucked a piece of hair behind of her hair. “Sure. So… See you then?”

“Sure. See you.”

Khailee smiled again, and stood up, leaving the table and breaking into a run when she reached the shade. Once she left, Carmilla was stuck facing her feelings alone again; at the thought of Adonis, she put her head in her hands and sighed, shaking her head. 

_ Adonis,  _ she said to herself,  _ his name is Adonis.  _

The sunlight on her skin combined with the shaking feeling in her legs from the boat made this all feel like a dream, but it wasn’t, she knew it wasn’t.  _ It is real, all of it,  _ she thought,  _ the war, the game, the great  _ game _ , and me, in the center of it. _

Her, the monster, the one they hated, she was here now.  _ Really here now. _

_ Me, the game-master, the one they scorned, I’m all that stands between them and whatever we’re fighting.  _ What were they fighting for, anyways?  _ The one they hated… _

Sometimes, she hated herself too.


	9. adonis

**Adonis**

There was a new young guest at Summerhall, Adonis had heard. ‘Multiple new guests, actually,’ Khailee testified, ‘you’d better stay out of their way. Sybill says,’ Khailee always called his mother Sybill. ‘They’re important.”

Adonis had never seen them himself, obviously, but once, when he had gotten home from school, and the car was pulling into their abnormally large driveway, another black car pulled up next to them. He could see a pale, almost albino man driving, along with four girls crammed into the back. The side that faced him revealed a woman’s face through the tinted glass, wearing sunglasses, a hat, and dark lipstick. If he had ever seen a face like that before, he didn’t now.

The mystery surrounding these guests they were hosting only served as a way to peak his curiosity, which is how he found himself wandering down the hallway leading to their hallway, which his mother said was forbidden for him to go in. At times, even Khailee wasn’t allowed to go into that corridor.

Sometime, half-past three in the morning, he had heard soft music coming from across the courtyard. Somehow, after half an hour of that music, no one had gotten up to stop it, so he got up, put on a sweater, and began wandering down the hallway and towards the corridor where it came from. As he got closer, the music got louder, vibrating through the walls.

Hesitantly, once he reached the corridor he knew he was never supposed to go into, he stepped inside, telling himself that his mother wouldn’t mind. _I have school tomorrow,_ he justified as he pressed his cheek to the doors separately, listening for music before reaching the source and knocking hesitantly after taking a deep breath.

No one responded, so he knocked again, his hand shaking so badly he had to clutch at it to calm himself. As soon as he did that, a young woman with dirty blonde hair opened the door, wearing heavy makeup.

For a second, she said nothing, only looked him up and down with a gaze that could have been piercing, although the woman was friendly.

“Who is it?” Someone called from inside. The music got even louder now that the door was open.

“The kid. I forgot his name,” She called, looking at him sheepishly. He shrugged and shook his head, as if indicating that it was okay she forgot his name.

“Which kid?” The same voice called back, and a pillow hit the woman over the head, causing feathers to burst all over the black party dress she wore. The woman at the door sighed, and called back, “The Estermond kid! Sybill’s boy!”

“Let him in!” A different voice commanded, and the woman stepped aside, letting Adonis take another deep breath before stepping into the large, brightly lit room. There were two girls piled together amongst shopping bags, black blankets, and pillows, both on their phones; a third was at the vanity table, and the fourth was on the bed, smoking a cigarette. _A cigarette,_ he thought strangely, and looked closely at the dressing table.

Clearly, his mother’s guests had expensive taste; the shopping bags on the table were all name brand, and luxury too. A glass square with neat lines of white powder rested in front of the two girls; one was lying back on the couch with her long hair all over the burst pillows.

Sitting on the floor was two twins, he noticed, playing a video game.

The woman on the bed didn’t look up as she commanded the rest of the girls, “It’s getting late. Get back to your own rooms.”

Without a word of protest, the girls swarmed out, black feather boas leaving behind a trail of feathers. One of the twins tossed a pillow at him and it bounced off his head harmlessly, leaving behind a strong cloud of perfume.

Once the door closed, Adonis stood there awkwardly, not sure of what to do until the woman put out her cigarette on the crystal ashtray, put away her book, and sat up to meet him; he knew at once where he had seen her. _In the car,_ he knew, although he didn’t know exactly _how_ he knew, _and in the garden, where I smiled at her, and her heart stopped, almost,_ Khailee had said, _and before that, in the alleyway, where she saved me from that singer._

He smiled hesitantly, and for a second, she almost didn’t recognize him as she sat up drowsily.

“So, the little lordling. What’s he doing up so late?”

 _She’s teasing me,_ he knew at once, and tried to rub the sleepiness from his eyes.

“You woke me up,” He said drowsily, without even meaning to. His voice sounded like a bratty little boy’s in that moment, but the woman on the bed didn’t seem to mind- once again, as if he were seeing her for the first time ever, he was taken aback by her stunning beauty.

“Sorry.” She turned the music off. “I’ll stop.”

Not knowing what was left to say, he shuffled awkwardly and walked closer to her. All the while, she kept her eyes on him, like a predator stalking her prey; her eyes were focused on his face, but she avoided his own eyes.

She made no move to walk to him, so he looked around himself, felt hot, and then, nodded quickly, sighed, and left the room. Her eyes were on him; he could tell. Green, like wildfire, they burned holes into the back of his shirt. The queen had been drinking with the guests, it seemed, he remembered the smell of strong alcohol. Like cigarettes, the alcohol only made her more beautiful, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed over.

Adonis reddened and ran downstairs, deciding to sit in front of the fridge and raid it at three- now four, in the morning. As he popped open an entire jar of peanut butter, he felt eyes on the back of his head and ignored it, using an entire package of crackers as spoons for the peanut butter in front of him, feeling the strange feeling of being watched intensify. Adonis tried his hardest to ignore it, choosing to take an entire half-finished bottle of sprite and drinking the entire thing in one go.

He felt the burning on his back cease, and turned around just in time to see Carmilla through the window that somehow overlooked the little kitchen he was in, surrounded by vines.  _Vines, on the inside,_ Khailee had said in regards to that,  _gods, what a stupid woman._ Adonis tried not to meter eyes as she leaned on one hand, resting her cheek against the palm and stared at him intently, almost smiling as she watched him.  _Why?_ Adonis' cheeks were surely as red as a pomegranate in that moment. He was nothing, not compared to her. She was, well, he didn't actually know her name, but whoever she was, she must have had better things to do than just watch him with a little smile. All he was was just little Adonis, in one sock, sitting on the cold kitchen floor and drinking soda straight out of the bottle.

When she looked away from him and back at whatever she was working on, he finished the jar of peanut butter with a stupid grin on his face, because,  _holy crap, she might actually like me and want to be friends with me, maybe._  

Adonis scrambled up the stairs, nearly tripping as he reached down with his hands and pulled his other sock up to his knees, sprinting the rest of the way, past her window and to his own room, with the door left wide open as he had left it.

On his walls, there were posters; just of things he liked, and postcards and polaroids on strings, covering an entire wall, almost. The postcards were postcards Khailee had sent him on her travels, because he was never well enough to travel on his own. Most of the time, the postcards came attached with a long letter, describing everything Khailee had seen, so later on, he could turn them into drawings like he had been there without actually having to leave King's Peace. The polaroids were the ones he took  when he went out with his cousins into the city; the large pile on his table were from his trip north.

_(WIP)_


	10. carmilla

**carmilla**

_Adonis,_ she thought,  _his name is Adonis, and I knew that._

"Adonis," Carmilla said to herself, repeating the name until it was sound only, "Adonis, Adonis, Adonis. His face is to my eyes as a mother's kiss is to a hand, an indescribable feeling. Adonis, Adonis."

She had long since left the villa, riding her motorcycle miles over the speed limit, through the city, through every street and back alley, memorizing every detail of the dirty walls, the crates and what they said stacked on top of each other, and yet her mind was still stuck in what her host had called a 'piazza', and despite the feeling of the hard leather seat beneath her, all she could feel was the sprinklers slightly touching her, leaving small wet spots on her shirt and soaking through the entirety of his.

Carmilla pushed her motorcycle further and stopped it, pulling it into break and hopping off before it had even stopped moving completely in the small, crowded gas station. For a second, she stayed where she was, kneeling on the ground, breathing harder than she had ever breathed before. 

Her entire body protested as she stood up, put gas into her motorcycle before realizing that there was no gas; in fact, there hadn't been for a while, from the looks of it. Carmilla looked at the gas station machines, with their dead screens.

The machines were dead, but the lights were still on, and there was a busy highway not two blocks away from them; so it would make no sense that a gas station would be deserted like this. 

Struck by curiosity, Carmilla stepped away from her motorcycle as the lights flickered, a few times, which unnerved her at first, although she chided herself.  _You're not afraid,_ she remembered someone telling her.  _You're not. I won't let you be afraid._

The wind picked up again, and the gas station's lights flickered once more as Carmilla got closer to the little convenience store near the gas station. The rushing lights from the highway nearby served as a guiding light once the lights flickered again and went out for good this time.

Carmilla jumped, but quickly calmed down and walked closer to the store, opening the doors and wandering around the aisles for a bit, trying to find any sign of human life. The lights in the store went off too, but something kept Carmilla from leaving the door. Something drew her feet away from the sliding doors that she had come into, and just from beyond, she could see her motorcycle, the trail of flashing lights that meant the highway, and the flattened bush she had ridden her motorcycle over in her hurry to get there.

"Is anyone there?" She called, realizing with a flush of pleasure that her voice did not sound scared at all.  _And I'm not scared either,_ she knew at once.  _I'm not._

Rustling came from behind her, the next aisle over, so Carmilla crouched down, feeling the air thick with tension and electricity; was that rain she smelled? Slowly, she bent down even more, finally finding a crack in the aisle shelves before realizing that the aisle was facing a wall, until a pair of eyes suddenly lunged out of the darkness that was supposed to be the wall, and stared at her.

Carmilla's breath caught in her throat, and in a hurry she whipped around, seeing a few dark shapes for a moment before a hand clamped over her face, lightning-quick, so quick that she could hardly see anything or feel anything before she fell forward into the darkness as the hand clasped over her wide eyes.

"Of course not," Said a voice from behind her, in the manner of a schoolmaster having caught a student misbehaving, or something like that.

"What?" She asked, struggling before realizing that she was free again, in a dark space this time. A single light shone on a glass tank in the middle of her vision, and, after a moment of looking around for her surroundings, Carmilla was pushed forward to the fish tank.

A single goldfish was in the middle, the light shining on it's pointed face, making it look slightly human. Carmilla felt as if she were hallucinating, but when she pressed her hand to the glass, it was cold as ice; her hand came away with soot on it, and the fish tank began to crack.

"I don't belong here," Carmilla said, but it wasn't really  _her_ that said it; she touched a finger to her throat and felt it seize up. "I know I don't."

"No, you don't," Agreed the fish in a perfectly impeccable voice. "Not here, not anywhere. You're going to get done in by the rest of them, did you know? Did you?"

Carmilla was disturbed, pulling away from the glass although something pushed her hand forward and onto the fish tank. A cold drop of sweat ran down her neck and to her back, burning like a whip along the trail of her spine.

"What the fuck," She found her voice and began to speak, moving away from the fish tank; a force grabbed her hand and led her in a circle, pulling her along. Her legs almost failed her as the force pushed her hand onto the fish tank, the sudden tug pulling the rest of her body onto the fish tank too. Combined with her freakish strength, that force should have been enough to knock the fish tank to the floor, but it stayed intact, still on the table. "Where the fuck am I? What the fuck?"

Her hand was burning now; she tried to pull away from the cold, cold glass but somehow couldn't, finding her hand to be stuck straight on.  _Where am I?_ The ground swayed beneath her as the goldfish smiled wide, with human teeth too big for his face. The smile crawled along the sides of his body like a fissure, and he spoke, revealing a human's tongue. The words he spoke were nothing like a human's.

"You don't belong here," It confirmed, hovering in one place as the floor and the tank and the table the tank was on somehow began swimming, swaying as her vision blurred. "You don't  _belong_ here, we are  _going_ to have  _fun_ in this place."

"Where?" She tried to croak as the floor sank; Carmilla's knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor, the other hand grasping desperately at the slick glass surface for any chance of staying up as she slid to the ground, collapsing in a pile. "Where am I? I don't understand."

"We're going to have fun in this place, do you hear?" The fish's mouth opened and stretched, even more, taking up the entire fish; the entire tank as the darkness grew. The fish's tongue disappeared, and all around her, she could feel that teeth, in the air, all around her, biting down. "We're going to have  _fun,_ do you hear?"

It kept asking that until the teeth closed in front of her, and Carmilla felt herself falling backward, where the ground should have been, although her back was met without nothing but air. Carmilla let herself drift until suddenly, her back hit the ground and her hand found the cold iron surface that was a metal bar.

A loud gasp pulled her suddenly out of her own mind for a second, and she woke up collapsed on the cold store floor, her cheek pressed to the cement floor.

Her phone was ringing in her pocket.

Carmilla sat up, feeling like she was a stranger to her own body, and slowly, with a hand grasping the steel bar near them, pulled herself up until she was standing. The back of her shirt was soaked through with a freezing cold sweat, but her only focus was getting the hell out of that stupid, probably possessed gas station.  _Stupid gas station,_ she thought on her way out, angrily tugging her leather jacket up and around her.

When she was halfway down a highway, her phone rang again, so she picked it up and pulled over.

"What are you up to?" Sarisa's voice asked from the other end, and Carmilla thought about the question for a second.  _What am I up to?_

"Why?"

"I'm going down to a club right now, real high class- Uh, it's own by Sybil. You wanna come?" 

There was a moment of awkward silence as Carmilla sat on her motorcycle, letting it hum underneath her before deciding, "yeah, sure, I'll come, where is it?"

"It's called 

_(WIP)_

"Look, she's my friend, and she's got like, this terminal illness that's gonna make her die in six weeks."

"Five," Carmilla interrupted, looking up at the girl Adonis was talking to. "It's actually five weeks."

Adonis looked at her and then shot the girl a sympathetic grimace, and for good measure, put his arm around her shoulders, as if to say, "yeah, we're friends, definitely."

"Oh." The girl looked disappointed. "Yikes. Sorry."

Carmilla shook her head and watched the girl leave, before Adonis pulled away form her in a hurry and scrambled to sit on his knees, also watching her trail out of his sight before smiling at Carmilla; the same blinding, million dollar smile he had graced her eyes with in the piazza. It was like he was handing out a million bucks to strangers all of a sudden, and half of those strangers didn't deserve any bit of that million dollar beauty.

"Thank you  _so_ much for playing along, hi Carmilla, I didn't think you'd be here, I thought it was only me, Sarisa, and that creepy girl that kept trying to kiss me and make me go in the back room with her. I think she wanted to murder me," Adonis told her, looking serious at the end.

"She's pretty."

"She smells bad."

"And you say she was trying to  _kiss_ you?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" Adonis looked offended, and Carmilla sat back on the sofa, holding her drink in her hand, her suit jacket abandoned next to her. "Because she wanted to kiss me? In the back rooms?"

"I think she was trying to do a little more than that, Adonis," Carmilla said, smiling slightly before drinking her alcohol to hide that smile.

"What's more than kissing?"

"Nevermind."

There was a moment of awkward silence. 

"Where's Sarisa?" Adonis asked, looking around himself before popping up onto his knees, peeking over the back of the booth they were sitting at to scan the club. 

"She got a ride home with some guy."

"Are they going to kiss?" Adonis scrunched his nose up at the thought and popped back down.

"Think bigger." Carmilla watched as he reached across the table and grabbed his drink. "Aren't you too young to drink? Don't drink that."

"It's just fruit punch in a fancy glass," Adonis said, sipping it and then making a face of disgust. "It's salty."

"I told you not to drink it. You left it alone for like, ten minutes straight."

"It was  _not_ ten minutes straight."

"It was long enough." Carmilla took the glass away from his hands and put it on the other end of the table, pulling him back with a hand on his lower back when he tried to reach for it again. "Don't."

"Why? What's even gonna happen?" Adonis sat back down and stared longingly at her drink. "Can I have some of yours?"

"No, you can't." Carmilla sipped er own drink as a response. "It's disgusting, and you're not legal."

The music got louder for a period of time; or maybe, that was just the silence filling the room between them. The lights began flashing a purple, switching from the calm yellow mood lighting to a neon colored haze.

"What's happening?" Adonis asked again, eyes darting from the purple light's source to Carmilla again. "My head's kinda hurting, Carmilla. May I call you Milly?"

"No, you may not, and I told you not to drink that, it was probably drugged. Shouldn't you be going home now?"

Adonis looked disappointed before looking down at his phone and sighing. "Sarisa was supposed to take be home by now, ugh, my head hurts and I'm bored."

"Do you have her car keys? I know her car's still here." Carmilla looked over at him to see him stretched out over the seats of the booth.

"Yeah. She said I could wait in the car any time I liked, if I was bored or something."

"Drive yourself home."

"I'm not even old enough to drink, I can't  _drive._ "

Carmilla looked around, debating if she should stick around for karaoke with some strangers after the club closed, or go and drive Adonis home, do something  _good_ for once in her life. 

 _Good is for people,_ Carmilla convinced herself.  _You're not_ people.

"Get up. I'll drive you home." Camilla decided, and took his wrist, with her jacket in her other arm. "Do you know where her car is?"

"Yeah, I think so. We had to walk for a while, though, is that okay?"

"If it's okay with you. How's your head?"

"It's good." Adonis followed her out of the club, letting the cool night air of the city hit them full on. "I mean, not  _good_ good, more like, everything hurts and I want to die, but other than that, everything's good."

"Jesus. You talk a lot, don't you?" Carmilla said without thinking, and at the hurt look on Adonis' face, quickly said, "It's endearing."

"Endearing?"

"For lack of a better word,  _cute_."

"Thanks," Adonis said shyly, looking at her as they walked up a street with cars parked along all sides of it; the sun was somehow just going down, dipping beneath the ocean where it faded into a weird combination of purple and orange and red. The rest of the sky was mostly dark, and beneath the hill they were climbing, Carmilla could see the city come to life.

"How old are you, really?"

"I turn fifteen in two months."

"So, a fetus that somehow found itself. way into a nightclub?"

"Hey," Adonis said, looking at her, offended but at the same time, somehow happy? "I'll have you know my mother owns that club. She owns multiple clubs."

"I thought was a great lady." Carmilla teased, looking around her as Adonis took out the keys and pressed the little 'open' button to Sarisa's car.

"Yeah, not really." 

Carmilla could see the light behind Adonis' eyes.  _I bet no one's ever walked up to him and asked if he had a drug addiction, or whatever._ But in his defense, he had never had a drug addiction in real life, either. 

"You know, you should put it near your chin. I heard that works."

"How?" Adonis asked ,while putting it beneath his chin and pressing the button again. 

"Well, it uses your head as an antenna, but I heard it gives you brain cancer." Carmilla said nonchalantly, one hand in her pocket; unknowingly, she had rolled up her sleeves, exposing the tattoo that climbed up the front of her pale forearm.

"What?" Adonis pulled the keys away from his head, looking shocked. "That's awful! Why would you tell me that?"

"I mean, in my defense, you get to where you're going faster, so it all kind of cancels itself." 

"Ugh, you are so..." Adonis looked at her, at a loss for words, seemingly.

"Charming?"

"I was gonna say weird."

They reached the top of the hill some time ago, but were only now wandering to the end of the expanse of trees that covered up the view of the city below, shining with a million little lights.

"Would you look at that?" Carmilla said in wonder as Adonis followed her to the edge of the hill, looking down at the city of stars that shone beneath them, starting at the edge of where a rocky slope ended, and stretching from here, all the way to the sea. There were no individual buildings at this point anymore, just blurs of shadow with a billion different white lights dotted up the scene, with he occasional red or green or blue light dotted in the middle.

"You've never seen this before?"

"Not without getting mugged or attacked, no."

Adonis looked down and apologized. "Sorry, I didn't know."

"You know, you have to stop taking everything so serious. The more you apologize, the less it means." Carmilla rested her hand against a tall light, taking a moment to breathe in the mountain air before turning around. "Look at that. It's fucking gorgeous. It's a view made for two gorgeous people."

Adonis rolled his eyes playfully, following her around as she walked from the lamp to a tree, before spinning around to face him. 

"Too bad those two are us. God, if only someone else were here, some hot dude who didn't look like he was twelve, or something..." Carmilla teased, looking at him with a hint of mocking in her brown eyes. "But there's just us. With absolutely  _nothing_ in between us..."

"Hey, first of all, if there's really  _nothing_ in between us, I'll be the one to decide that. You look good first of all, yeah, nice suit. Polyester?"

"It's wool." Carmilla watched as the light in his eyes grew, and followed him as he walked around the hilltop, dramatic as ever.

"The two of us, we could  _never_ make it work.  _Never,_ right? God, it's just- we're too different. I don't see  _any_ chance for romance."

"Really?"

"I mean, it could just be- nothing."

"So you agree?"

Carmilla gestured around her, at the city, and spun around in one circle. 

"What a waste of a lovely night," They said together, and Carmilla realized that there had never been a person who's company she enjoyed more since-  _Lyanna._

As she watched his smile grow once he took off down the hill, turning around to make sure she was following, and then stopping in his tracks and turning around fully, nearly making her bump into him, breathless with laughter that she wasn't sure came from her, or the thrill of running down the hill, or-

He stepped closer, so she did too, almost like they were challenging each other. Carmilla scanned him, looking him up and down with her eyes until they gradually rose to meet his; Adonis was doing that distractingly hot thing where he managed to look up at her through his eyelashes shyly, despite the sparkle that lay behind the soft brown. The sensation of a soft smile spreading across her face was foreign to her; she had not smiled, or laughed in so long. The sound of her voice as she opened her mouth to speak would surely be a stranger's voice after this. 

Luckily, she was spared from hearing her own voice by the beeping of Sarisa's car from around a dense clump of bushes.

"Oh, I'd better get that," Adonis said, embarrassed, clearly, the moment between them broken. Carmilla tried not to let the disappointment show on her face as she took one last look at the city of stars before them, shining like never before, a billion little lights burned into her brain like cigarette holes in a cheap mattress. As soon as Carmilla turned away to follow Adonis, she blinked, to see the city of stars burned into her eyelids one last time; those brilliant little lights, Lyanna's smile, and Adonis.  _And Adonis._


	11. carmilla

**carmilla**

If she was being honest, she quite liked Adonis. 

At first, she had thought it was just the rush of the moment, where she thought there was no friend whose company she enjoyed quite as much as Adonis; not since Lyanna, anyways, but he was kind of endearing to her, in a baby fawn that's just been kicked kind of way.

Sometimes, when she was 


End file.
